


Expats and Aliens, They are Just the Same

by mywasteddream



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Expat!AU, Fanfic with local flavor, Gen, OT5 Friendship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 13:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10164242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywasteddream/pseuds/mywasteddream
Summary: Sho was transfered to a foreign branch and he found friendship.





	

**Author's Note:**

> You don’t need to understand any Indonesian to read this fanfic. It’s written in a foreigner’s perspective and any sentence where these people understands, will definitely be explained in the paragraph.

Sho doesn’t hate Jakarta. Well, aside from the awful traffic, air pollution, the too-flexible society, and their inability to be disciplined, Sho doesn’t hate Jakarta. That’s why he didn’t complain much when he got promoted to lead a project in Indonesia and was transferred to the Jakarta Office. He got a raise and all his accommodations during his two year stay in Indonesia are covered by the company. And his living conditions, if you don’t consider the downside of living in a high density metropolitan area of a developing country, definitely increases. He has Parto, his personal chauffeur now, and he lives in a classy serviced apartment in South Jakarta where pretty much a lot of Japanese stays. To get those in Japan, he would need to take over the company and since normal employee like him cannot afford them. 

Sho doesn’t hate living in Jakarta. And he always says he enjoys his stay in the city all through his currently going into month number two and he means it. But he wants to take back those words now. He just hates living in Jakarta now. His team member just told him that he would not reach his meeting place on time if he takes the car. It is the even-number day, meaning his car which has odd-number on its plate cannot take the main street, where his meeting will be held in forty five minutes.

"You can take the busway,” Rino, his team member, suggests. The Indonesian man is a graduate from Nagoya University, and despite not able to speak in good business Japanese, he can speak daily Japanese fluently and proved an important member in Sho’s planning team.

Sho rolls his eyes at hearing the bus rapid transit system’s nickname. The nearest stop is only about 15 minutes away from his office. But first of all, the stop nearest to his meeting place is currently closed due to MRT construction, and that means another 15 minutes’ walk, in over-crowded, dangerous, pick-pocket filled sidewalk of Jakarta. And then he has no confidence to act like he belongs there. Not yet, at least. So no, thank you. Sho still doesn't dare taking public transportation in Jakarta.

He remembers travelling South East Asia and lost his passport and wallet, causing him to be stuck at the nearest Japanese embassy to work on his documents. He still have not dared using public transport whenever he has to travel in developing countries. And he doesn't want to arrive at his meeting place covered in sweat from walking in the humid afternoon air.

“I’ll order Go-Jek for you then,” Rino says, “They’ll take you to the venue in no time.”

"What? You want me to take a motorcycle ride? Here?!”

"Or you can ask Parto to drive you, but you will definitely be late. Like, for 20 minutes.”

Sho still dreads the idea of taking a motorcycle ride through the evening rush traffic, but he hates being late for a meeting more.

Well, it’s true that the locals do not really respect time, but he still wants to keep his dignity as Japanese and not being late to a meeting, and he would rather be the one waiting for other people if he could help it.

“Argh!” Sho resigns finally, “Get me one then. Tell the rider I’ll be waiting near pedestrian entrance.”

"OK, Boss!” His subordinate gives a thumb up and starts ordering a ride from his phone. “I use Go-Pay already, so you don’t need to pay later.”

Sho grunts in reply. He shuffles his tablet and printouts into his bag and makes sure that it is securely zipped.

“Those local investors be damned!” He mutters under his breath as he slings the bag on his shoulder and makes his way out of the office. “They think they’re the only one busy. If I don’t need their signatures, I would have declined this reschedule.”

As he goes down the elevator, Rino sends him a mail, giving him the details of his ride. Sho wants to cry whenever he sees names he cannot pronounce. Syailendra Pranawandono, the rider’s name, written on his phone. The subordinate also warns that if the rider asks his order, Sho has to say that it is under Rino’s name.

Sho waits at the pedestrian entrance to their office compound. He is nervous. This is the very first time he rides a Go-Jek and he is not sure if the rider will ride carefully. He knows how crazy the riders in Jakarta are. He has seen his chauffeur cursing whenever a motorcycle suddenly cut their line.

His phone pings to tell him that his ride is near and should arrive anytime soon. At least that is the content of Rino’s mail.

Not long after, a rider clad in green jacket stops near him and he hears the rider asks him, “Pak Rino, yah?”

Sho has only stayed in the country for two months, but he takes Indonesian class once a week. In fact, his first week in the Jakarta Office was filled with private lectures on simple Indonesian phrases and a crash course on the culture and what he should expect from living there.

“Ke The Keraton,” he said, telling the rider to take him to The Keraton, a hotel towards the center where his meeting will be held.

The rider looks at him with question on his face. “South Quarter Simatupang bukan, Pak?” he asks Sho, but Sho cannot catch what he means. The Japanese just wants to go to his meeting place as soon as possible.

“Pak’ Hendora?” a man comes running from the office building.

From his accent in speaking Indonesian, Sho notices that the man is not local. Definitely. In fact the accent makes Sho wonders if the man is also a Japanese.

"Pak Nino ya?" The rider lights up and the new comer nods.

It makes Sho realizes that he almost takes the wrong ride. He hurriedly saying that he is sorry to the man in English, making sure that his words can be conveyed. His Indonesian is nowhere in conversational level and he is not sure what nationality the other man although from the way the other man waves his hand in a hurry and the way they both bow to each other, he becomes more ensured that the man is also Japanese.

Right at that time Sho’s ride comes. A rather plump man riding the motorcycle.

“Atas nama Pak Rino?” he asks towards the three. Sho catches the name of his subordinate clearly at the end of the sentence despite not really sure what exactly the rider said. He just assumes that the rider just asked him if he ordered under the name Mr. Rino. Yet he repeats it to the rider, making sure he rolls the R stronger than the Japanese R but weaker than the Spanish R. “Rino,” Sho says, “Rino.”

The rather plump rider nods as he hands Sho a green helmet, a face mask and a surgical head cover. Sho takes them and puts the head cover and face mask on before he wears the helmet.

When he first saw the office’s front desk lady about three weeks later donning the items before taking a hitch on the motorcycle taxi, he was quite surprised. But then his driver, Parto, kindly explained to him that since the helmet is worn by a lot of people, wearing the surgical cap would increase the hygienity. At least it reduces the part of helmet that touches your head. Sho is forever thanking his luck for having a good chauffeur who can speak in understandable English. The chauffeur has helped him a lot in adjusting to new things around him. Too bad a car is useless in a time like this.

At the corner of his eyes, he sees the other motorcycle taking the small-built man away.

The man sits at ease on the back of the rider, calmly twiddling on his phone without taking a grip on the motorcycle back handle. It is something that Sho will never do, always a scaredy cat that he is and always thinking of worst case scenario.

“Lewat mana?” the rider asks as Sho takes a seat at the back of the motorcycle and carefully tucking his bag between his body and the rider's.

Sho just shakes his head because although he understands that the rider asks him which way he wants to take, Sho has no idea how to reply. Not now. Maybe he can do it in the Indonesian class where teachers give predictable reply, knowing well his level of Indonesian. But talking in Indonesian with normal people in the real setting is too stressful for him. You have no idea what they will say, and in which dialect they will say. Unlike in Japan where people from the countryside try hard to speak like Tokyoites do, a lot of people in Jakarta keep their way of speaking no matter what.

It is a good thing that the rider just takes that Sho has no idea which way is less jammed and follows what his GPS dictates him.

===

Sho already forgot the incident after a few days. His meeting went alright and he got the signatures he wanted. All his works went as expected that week despite yet another findings that there are local regulations he was not aware of and he had to force the designers in the main office and the people his company hires as architect of record to adjust yet again their planning. But at least he managed to go playing golf during the weekend with some other Japanese he knows.

He forgot the incident until the time he decided to go over to Kinokuniya in the next building to find something to read and someone suddenly quips nearby.

“It’s you! The guy who almost stole my ride!”

It is said in perfect Japanese by small built man with high pitch.

The man is standing beside Sho, holding a manga magazine, perhaps a month late than the ones now available in book stores in Japan, like most of the magazines and other releases available in the bookstore where they are standing.

“I’m Ninomiya Kazunari, working in the next building” he introduces himself as he passes a business card of a famous advertising company. The card has bright orange color with its letters tilted 45° in Helvetica. “Call me Nino.”

Sho automatically takes out his card and hands it to Nino. “Sakurai Sho, from Tatsuda Development.”

"Can I call you Sho?” Sho looks at the man before him. It's not common for Sho to call someone he barely knew with first name. But here, in the country where lives, people call each other on first name basis, so he just nods uncertainly.

“Great!” The guy before him beams. “How long have you been here?”

"Going into my second month,” Sho answers. Nino’s grin grew wider.

“I thought so,” he says, “We should get something to drink.”

“Sure.”

And then Nino grabs him by the hand and takes him to the nearest restaurant where they drink cold local beer from small bottles because that was the only alcohol they could get without spending too much. Nino raises his bottle and let it clinks with Sho’s.

“Welcome! I’ll make you enjoy this place,” he promises.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone posted [ this ](https://twitter.com/Hatzka20/status/819059955693133824) and I just couldn't let it go from my head. But since I don’t like AU in a setting that doesn't seem to belong, this becomes an Expat Worker AU.
> 
> The beginning of this story came up after similar thing happened to me when going to office.
> 
> The others will appear in the next chapters.
> 
> Yes, I am shameless, posting this fic here. 
> 
>  
> 
> PS: Go-Jek is one of on-demand app-based taxi. I know I should not mention a brand in a fic, but it won't sound as natural.


End file.
